


it's as easy as - one two three

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Spin the Bottle, Stisaac Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Isaac found himself in a situation he’d rather not be in, it’s Erica’s fault. That’s just the way it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's as easy as - one two three

**Author's Note:**

> Made for stisaac week. Prompt: "the pack playing spin the bottle and stiles and isaac kiss" by colinmorgay  
> goes with this post :)

It was Erica’s idea – of course it was. 

Whenever Isaac found himself in a situation he’d rather not be in, it’s Erica’s fault. That’s just the way it goes.

When he feels like sleeping in? Erica texts him awake asking if he wants to go for a morning run (if he doesn’t want, he has to anyway). When he wants curl up and read a book, Erica is there, dragging him to the nearest coffee shop.

And now Erica is there and suggestion they play spin the bottle, and Isaac has never wanted to do anything less than this.

So of course, the rest of their friends eagerly agree – Isaac doesn’t even want to think why. Probably because Stiles wants to make out with Lydia and Lydia wants to make out with Scott and Scott is cool with everything. Should be something like that, he expects, because he can’t think of any other reason.

Boyd drags him along so suddenly he’s part of the circle, a bottle in the middle. He can sense his smirk without actually seeing it, and Isaac kind of wants to punch his best friend because there’s only one reason Boyd can look so smug.

That reason is the person sitting in front of him, on the other side of the circle.

Stiles.

“No need to ask who you’re hoping to get,” Boyd whispers to him.

Isaac doesn’t say anything because he knows he can’t deny that but he doesn’t want to agree with it either – that’d make everything to real, and worse, someone might see it.

But yeah, deep down he knows it is true. If there’s anyone he’s hoping to get, it’d be Stiles, though at the same time he doesn’t want to get him at all because then they’d have to kiss and to Stiles it wouldn’t mean anything while it’d be everything to Isaac, everything he wants, and he can get it but not really because it wouldn’t be _real_ , it’d be just part of the game, Isaac would be part of the game, and Stiles wouldn’t feel anything, and it’s like he’d be slipping away again and it’d hurt and –

Erica spins the bottle. It lands on Cora and there are catcalls everywhere. Cora is smirking as she leans forward and presses a firm kiss to Erica’s lips. Boyd is the next one to spin, and when it finally stops on Lydia, Isaac doesn’t miss how surprised but still pleased they both look.

When they pull apart, Isaac stares at the bottle for a few seconds, knowing it’s his turn, but he doesn’t really feel like spinning. What if it lands on Allison? Or Erica? Would that be worse or better than Stiles? He honestly can’t tell.

“C’mon Isaac,” Scott finally says. Isaac looks up just in time to see Stiles glaring at Scott and punching him in the shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac reaches out for the bottle and spins it.

It seems like it takes forever to stop, everything happening in some weird fucked up brain slow motion, but then finally, _finally_ , it slows down, and lands on Stiles.

Like the devil himself was part of it.

Isaac’s heart is beating in his throat as he looks up, only to find out Stiles is already staring at him, eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in pure and honest _shock_.

Erica is the first one to start yelling, and everyone quickly joins in, a quiet chant of _kiss kiss kiss_.

Isaac looks at Boyd for moral support, who just shrugs and nods his head towards Stiles, as if saying “I can’t help it either, dude, just go for it.”

So Isaac does the only thing he can think about.

He gets on his knees and shuffles closer to the middle of their circle, and Stiles does the same a second later, sliding closer until there’s a few inches left between them and Isaac’s insides turn weak and a million bad poets about the color of Stiles’ eyes pop into his head (“like molten gold, a gift of the earth that cannot be unseen, the sweet edge of honey giving it an extra sparkle, sizzling like champagne”).

His intention was to steady Stiles by cupping his cheek, but if he stops to think about it maybe that might not have been entirely true.

He just wanted to touch, to know what it feels like, have Stiles skin under his palm and feel his shaky breath against the pad of his thumb when it comes to rest on the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

The room falls silent, or maybe Isaac has just gone for deaf for any noise, except for the little noise Stiles lets out when he brushes the lightest of kisses to his lips.

It’s the kind of noise that Isaac wants to hear again and again, every time he kisses Stiles. He also wants to kiss Stiles all the time, feel how well their lips slot together.

Because they do.

When Isaac tilts his head a little bit, he can feel Stiles’ tongue grazing his bottom lip, asking for access, which Isaac gives without a second thought.

And then they’re _making out_ instead of just kissing, with tongue and teeth and their entire mouths instead of just their lips, which is the single most amazing feeling Isaac has ever had.

All too soon (even though it feels like at least two hours have past) Stiles pulls back again, looking mostly scared but also a little bit happy. It’s a confusing expression, to be honest.

“Shit,” he says, and before anyone else can do something, he’s gotten to his knees and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the rest of their friends to stare at him.

And stare for a little bit longer.

Getting more than a little bit self-conscious, Isaac shifts on his knees and sinks down.

“Go after him,” Boyd finally says, breaking the silence and making it sound like an _order_. Isaac doesn’t even dare to protest.

When he enters the kitchen, Stiles is leaning against the counter, his face buried in his hands. He looks up briefly, probably having heard Isaac come in, and lets out a noise that is all painful humiliation. “Go away,” he mumbles.

This time, Isaac doesn’t listen.

“What wrong?” he asks carefully, taking a step closer to Stiles and pleased to notice he doesn’t push him away or back off.

For a few seconds, Stiles stays silent. Isaac starts thinking he’s not going to answer anyway, but then he speaks up. “I let myself go, okay? That wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s just… I’ve wanted it for _so long_ and now I finally had the chance and I took it but it was a mistake and I’m sorry, Jesus. You must think I’m such a creep, but… fuck, it doesn’t even matter, does it? Just go. It’s cool.”

Isaac’s brain shortcut  somewhere after _wanted it for so long_.

“Me too,” he says when he realizes Stiles is looking at him, waiting for an answer. “All that. Me too,” he repeats.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I got better things to do than that,” Isaac replies.

“Like what?”

“Like kissing you again?” he tries, hoping for the best result. This could be either the worst thing to say, or the best.

When Stiles starts smiling, he goes with “the best.”

“I like that idea,” Stiles says, his expression turning a bit sheepish.

“Good,” Isaac says, stepping closer to him again so their bodies are inches apart. He leans down, hovering in front of Stiles for a second, but when the other reaches out and wraps his arms around Isaac’s neck to pull him closer and kiss him again, he knows this is the best result imaginable. 


End file.
